


Handy

by merelypassingtime



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1, Anal Fingering, Awkward First Times, Banter, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Co-Parenting The Cloak of Levitation, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Stephen Strange, IronStrange, M/M, Seriously; I wrote a lot of banter, just a touch of angst, post Avengers 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:12:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelypassingtime/pseuds/merelypassingtime
Summary: Stephen still struggles to do simple, everyday tasks with his disabled hands. Luckily, Tony is there to lend a hand.A story about Stephen and Tony falling in love and building their relationship told in incidences centered around Stephen’s limited hand use.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授翻】Handy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716284) by [Clover_cherik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clover_cherik/pseuds/Clover_cherik)



> I have serious and disabling problems with my hands, and one of the things that always has bothered me about Doctor Strange is that his hands are a major plot point, but only affect him when it is plot convenient.  
> This is a story about what it is like to genuinely live with limited use of your hands based on my experiences.  
> Thanks and more than thanks to my wonderful beta no-reason-at-all for hanging with me as I step into a new fandom and supporting me through the flurry of words I’ve throw at her while this story burns through me.

The sunset from Stark Tower was breathtaking. Stephen could see why the others had insisted on having their victory party here even over Tony’s token objections.

Honestly, he’d been surprised to be invited to the party at all. Everyone else in the group shared a complex history together, in some cases one that spanned centuries, and then there was him. The fight against Thanos notwithstanding, he barely knew any of the people here, in fact, he’d never even met half of them.

So as they all sat around talking about past adventures and remembering fallen comrades, Stephen kept to the outer edge of the balcony, admiring the view and trying not to feel like he was back in high school, too smart and too, well, strange to fit in. He could feel the same mask of arrogance he had worn then slipping on to hide his growing discomfort.

It was a relief when Tony appeared again, garnering cheers and thanks from the rest of the group as he wrestled a large grey cooler onto the deck. At least Tony was familiar, if not exactly friendly, and Stephen found himself looking forward to trading barbs with him again, particularly with him wearing such a tight, revealing shirt. When he bent to set the cooler down Stephen looked away from various rippling muscle groups, determined not to give his thoughts away.

The painfully young voice of Peter Parker made him look back. “Oh, Mr Stark, I could’ve helped you carry that out,” he offered, looking so much like an eager puppy that Stephen winced a bit in sympathy.

“No, it’s fine,” Tony said popping open the cooler and fishing around in it for a few seconds before he straightened to hand the kid an eye-searingly yellow can.

“Thanks, Mr Stark!”

“You’re welcome; everyone else, help yourselves.”

“That’s an awfully small cooler for a party,” someone commented.

Tony opened his mouth to answer, but the muted boom of Thor’s voice beat him to it. “There’s no need for concern; we have the wizard of infinite beer here,” he said, sweeping his arm towards where Stephen stood at the edge of the group.

All eyes turn towards him and and he froze like a deer caught in headlights.

“The wizard of beer?” an average looking man Stephen had yet to meet asked dubiously.

Thor nodded in confirmation. “Yes! He gave me a tankard that refilled itself; it was quite extraordinary!” 

Stephen blinked, unsure what to say. It was one thing to refill a single glass with liquid, it was quite another to refill a chest with multiple different types of individually packaged beverages. He supposed he could do it, maybe with the right gateway and a bit of help from his newly restored Eye of Agamotto, but while he was tempted to try it in order to impress this group of powerful people, his common sense was firmly against manipulating time and space for beer.

Tony saved him from having to answer. Flashing a dazzling smile at Stephen, he said,“There is no need to drag the mighty forces of the cosmos into this, though it’s good to know what to get you for your next birthday, Terminator.”

Before Thor could object to the name, Drax beat him to it, “Terminator? I thought the pirate-angel was called Thor.”

“Yeah, but, you know, he’s got the buzzcut now and the cybernetic eye like the movie…”

Drax still looked lost. “So it is funny because he has killed many people?” 

“Well, yes,” Thor said. “I have killed many of my enemies, so I guess that would be a fitting name.”

Tony squeezed his eyes closed, covering them with his fingertips and sighing before he said in exasperation,“You know what, forget it. We are getting way off track here. Muscles, how about you just go talk to Banner, Drax, go find a shirt or something, and nobody has to worry about the beer. I have more on the way already, this was just what I had on hand. Believe it or not, I don’t keep a keg around just in case the world gets saved.” Scooping a few cans out of the ice, Tony tossed one to a surprised Stephen, continuing, “So grab a can and trust me to keep them coming.” 

“Cans?” Banner asked. “Isn’t that a little lowbrow for you, Tony?”

“We don’t bring anything glass out here since that time Nat got drunk and decided to throw a wine bottle off the balcony to see if I could catch it before it hit the ground.”

“Ms Romanoff!” Peter exclaimed, sounding scandalized.

“Oh, it was fine,” she said, waving an arm dismissively. “He caught it.”

Dryly, Tony said, “Of course I did, and then you screamed ‘Best two out of three!’ and threw another.”

“See, children,” Fury said from where he was looming darkly. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

Stephen chuckled along with the others, but inside he was too worried about the can he now held. Seven surgeries, months of therapy, and years of mastering the mystic arts hadn’t given Stephen back his ability to do something as mortifyingly simple as pull open the tab on a can of beer. His fingers were too weak, the tremor in them too pronounced to perform the simple task. If he had a key or a knife or something he could use as a level to pull the tab up, he could do it, but his robes were sadly lacking in pockets for such things, and the only other thing he wore was the Eye of Agamotto and he refused to open beer cans with it.

He looked down helplessly at his unopened beer, knowing that soon someone would notice and accuse him of being too good to drink with them, then he would have to explain and look pathetic or agree and look like a dick. Fervently, he wished he had just gone home.

A warm hand came to rest on his arm, derailing his dark train of thoughts, and suddenly Tony was there, leaning into his personal space to pluck the cold can from one shaking hand. “Here, allow me,” he said, cracking open the can.

“Um, thanks. Sorry, I just, you know, can’t-” Stephen stammered, his face turning red.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” Moving in even closer, Tony pressed the can back into his grip. Did his hand linger as their fingertips met? Stephen wasn’t sure, but he hoped they had.

Tony retrieved his own drink from a nearby table, and staying close to Stephen, he turned back towards the group held up his can. “My friends, a toast.”

“To old friends fallen and to new friends found. To battles lost and wars won. To the end of one chapter and the start of something new.” Tony turned to look directly at Stephen and gave them what could only be called a flirtatious wink before finishing, “To new beginnings!”

“New beginnings,” Stephen chorused along with the rest of the group, taking a long drink from his now-open can to hide his blush.

Hours later, Stephen watched the fireworks display blooming above the skyscraper disinterestedly. Objectively, it was a great show, but he’d had his fill of explosions recently and was more than ready to be back in the solitude of Bleecker Street, maybe listening to some David Bowie and taking a manly bubble bath, one with the bubbles that smelled like apricots.

He rested a hand on the sling ring on his belt, thinking this would be the best time to leave while everyone else was distracted and wondering if it would be polite to say goodbye to his host or if he had already pushed his luck there as far as it would go. Tony was probably busy with all his friends and wouldn’t notice or care about the quiet departure of one wayward wizard.

Turning away from the balcony railing, planning to find a quiet corner to open a gateway home, Stephen collided with the very man he’d been thinking about. Only Tony’s quick step backward kept him from being knocked over.

“Sorry!” Stephen said, grabbing Tony’s arm to steady him. “Good reflexes, though.” 

“Well, I did lead my high school football team to win the state championship.”

“Really? I’d never heard that.”

“That’s because it isn’t true. I’m just trying to impress you. Did it work?”

“I’m not sure there's anything you could say at this point that could impress me more than I already am.”

“Ooo, I like that answer. Just for that, drinks are on me,” Tony said, offering one of the two champagne flutes he held to Stephen. “Didn’t spill a drop.”

Stephen took it even as he said, “Um thanks, really, but I was just about to head out.”

Resting his now free hand on Stephen’s where it was still holding his arm, Tony replied, “I know, and I wanted to talk to you for a minute before you left.”

“Oh,” Stephen said, his voice small. He downed half the glass of champagne he was holding in a fit of nerves.

“Careful, that’s the good stuff, not what I serve these heathens.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to, you know.”

“No, I wanted to.”

“Oh,” Stephen repeated, feeling like an idiot but not sure what else to say.

Looking serious, Tony said, “Look, I am sorry if I am coming on too strong, but I really like you Stephen, and I’d like to spend more time with you.”

“No, you aren’t coming on too strong. I like strong, and I like you. Oh.” Stephen started to flush, realizing what he’d just said, but steeled himself, admitting, “Well, it’s true. I do like you. It is just sorta overwhelming. I mean you’re... all _this_ ,” he said gesturing around at the lavish penthouse, the high-tech tower it was in, the fireworks going off above them. “And I’m not.”

“Not what?” Tony asked gently. “You’re amazing! I mean, you’re a neurosurgeon who does real magic. That’s pretty hard to top.”

Stephen shrugged, “Maybe, but that is not really who I am.”

“And this isn’t me, either. That is why I’d like to spent some time with you, so we can really get to know one another.” Now it was Tony’s turn to shrug. “Look, I understand. It’s hard to let people in. We can take this as slow as you’d like or just forget the whole thing, but I’d really like to take you on a proper date sometime.”

“I’d like that too.”

“Great! Then, if you don’t mind, can I have your phone number so we can set something up when things calm down a bit?”

Stephen’s heart dropped a bit at that. Tony must have seen it on his face because he asked, “What? Too much?”

“No, it’s just, I actually don’t have a cell anymore, not since I took up studying magic.”

“That makes perfect sense, who needs a phone when you have the powers of the universe at your fingertips?”

“Plus, the service in Nepal and the Mirror Dimension both are terrible.”

Stephen expected Tony to ask about the Mirror Dimension, but instead he asked, “So, how do I contact you? Light some incense and chant?”

“No, actually, I was planning to get a new cell anyway,” Stephen lied.

Tony’s raised eyebrow said he didn’t believe that in the slightest, but out loud he said, “Great, here’s my card, you can hit me up when you get it.”

Stephen looked at the card. “‘Tony Stark: Genius.’ Really?”

“I didn’t design them, Pepper did.”

“It has your suit’s phone number on here.”

“Yeah, for when I’m flying around doing superhuman feats of heroism.”

“It’s the same number as your cell.”

“Maybe,” Tony said with a shrug. “But it looked so cool on the card.”

“Show off.”

“Showman, there’s a difference.”

“Only in your mind.” 

Tony just smiled at him. 

The group on the balcony with them had gone silent as the fireworks seemed to build into the grand finale, lighting the scene with brillant bursts of color. In the middle of it all, Tony stood there, smiling as if Stephen really was the amazing one. Suddenly, it was all a little too much for Stephen to handle. “Sorry,” he said. “I should probably go.”

Tony kept smiling, not a hint of disappointment or reproach in his voice as he said, “Of course, thanks for coming. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Stephen said as he took a reluctant step back from Tony, getting ready to leave. “I’ll see you soon.”

He finished the glass of champagne and handed it back to Tony so he could put on his sling ring. He cast the gateway just in front of the guardrail, and Stephen stepped through and into Bleecker Street. 

As the gateway began to close he turned to look back at Tony. Stephen smiled and waved at him as the gateway closed and Tony was lost from sight. He kept the smile as he moved farther into the house towards his bubble bath.

Stephen got the phone the next day. An older part of him wanted to get the latest smartphone and an expensive unlimited usage plan, but his better sense prevailed and he got a cheap contract phone, knowing that he was unlikely to need it much.

As soon as the new phone was fully charged, he programed in Tony’s number, then stared at the blinking cursor, unsure what to say. Somehow a text didn’t seem dramatic enough. After some thought, he instead took the doorway back to Nepal to ask Wong a favor.

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing in Tony’s room, looking down at the piece of parchment he had just lain on Tony's pillow. In Wong’s neat cursive it said, “Stephen Strange: Sorcerer Supreme, Guardian of New York Sanctum, MD PhD DClinSurg.” Beneath that, written in sanskrit was “For a good time call:” and his new phone number.

Stephen adjust it slightly so it was squarely in the center of the pillow before he left.

It was late that night when he received his first text, **Cute. I like a good time.**

This time Stephen was prepared, and, on the advice of a surprisingly culturally literate Wong, he typed, **new phone, who dis?**

The response was quick to come. **Forgotten me already? It’s Tony Stark: Genius.**

**Oh, that’s a relief. I thought for a second it was Tony Stark: Arrogant Bastard.**

**Takes one to know one.** Before Stephen could think of a reply, his phone chimed again. **Are you busy Friday night?**

**Let me check.** he typed, then waited a minute to make it seem like he was genuinely looking. **No.**

**Great, I’ll pick you up at 7. Wear socks.**

**For what?** Stephen demanded. There was no response, so after awhile he texted again, **Is 'socks' some sort of code?**

**Sorry, can’t talk, I’m on the suit phone.**

**You texted me!**

**See you Friday. ;)**

Stephen sighed in mock irritation, already wondering what Tony could have planned.


	2. Chapter 2

The car inched forward, then stopped again, caught in midtown traffic. Stephen fidgeted in his seat, trying to pass it off as straightening his tunic. He frowned down at the cloth under his fingers and wondered for the thousandth time if he should have worn something more casual and modern. 

When he’d been getting ready Wong had assured him that the tunic was fine and that the color really made his eyes pop, but, in the end, he’d only settled on it because it was comfortable, allowed a good range of motion, and because it was the only clothing he owned. As a compromise he had left the Cloak of Levitation behind, much to the Cloak’s displeasure. 

He had also made sure to wear socks, per Tony’s instructions from when he made the date weeks ago, a detail which had driven Stephen mad with curiosity while a string of disasters, minor incursions and other generic emergencies on both sides forced them to reschedule several times.

With each delay Stephen’s anticipation grew, helped in no small part by the funny, entertaining texts they had been exchanging since Stephen got a cell. Unfortunately, his anxiety had grown right along with it, making him a nervous wreck on a scale he hadn’t known since his early teens.

It didn’t help that Tony was sitting next to him, looking as cool as a whole cucumber patch and not at all as if the silence in the car was eating away at his frayed nerves.

Stephen was just thinking about trying once again to start a conversation, even though the last attempt had conclusively proven that all his usually noted skill in banter had fled him, when the car mercifully pulled up the curb and he all but jumped out of its oppressive atmosphere.

On the street he looked around for a sock requiring business while Tony got out of the car more sedately and talked briefly to the driver, who seemed to be improbably named Happy. When Tony did join him it was to find Stephen staring in mute disbelieve at the building in front of him.

“What? Don’t you like bowling?” Tony asked, grinning with all his considerable boyish charm. He linked an arm with Stephen’s, pulling him towards the front door of the seedy looking bowling alley.

“Bowling? Really?” Stephen demanded. “The 1960s called and they want their date back.”

“Yeah, and then the 1990s called and wanted that joke back.”

Stephen inclined his head, granting the point.

“Besides,” Tony said, “I wanted to show you my excellent ball handling skills.”

“Ambitious of you on a first date.”

“Well,” he said with a try at modesty that fell flat, “I don’t want to brag but I do bowl in the low hundreds. I even broke one-fifty once.”

Laughing, Stephen replied, “Oh, then do be ready to catch me when I swoon.”

When they got up to the counter Tony told the clerk that they had a reservation for two hours under the name Stark. The bored-looking woman didn’t bat an eye, and Stephen wondered if Tony came here often.

Innocently, Stephen asked, “Did you get one of the lanes with bumpers.”

“No!” Tony said grandly. “Today we bowl like men. Now tell the nice lady your shoe size.”

“Eleven and a half, please.”

“Is that so?” Tony asked with an exaggeratedly lascivious look. “Is it true what they say about men with big feet?”

“Yes,” Stephen answered, deadpan. “They look as ridiculous in bowling shoes as everyone else.”

It wasn’t until he actually picked up the bowling ball and had it promptly fall out of his feeble grip and onto his foot that Stephen saw the obvious flaw in Tony’s plan. It was clear as crystal, though, as he hopped around, cursing loudly and literally. The ball was still rolling away from him when the force of his malice and unintentional spell casting caught up with it and it shattered, sprinkling everything in a five foot radius with dust and adding to the general confusion.

Suddenly, Tony was there, leading him to one of the horrible burnt orange molded plastic chairs and calling for ice. In short order the scene resolved itself, ice was brought for his throbbing foot, and a dustpan was fetched for the erstwhile bowling ball. 

Kneeling down in front of him, Tony removed the shoe to check for swelling. He was still cupping the foot, massaging the toes lightly, when he said, “You know, if you were so afraid of losing you could’ve just said so, you didn’t need to injure yourself.”

Stephen wasn’t able to meet his eyes, focusing instead on the worn carpet as he said, “Um, no that’s not it. I’m not- that is, I can’t…” he trailed off, knowing that there was no face-saving way to voice the truth. He held up his trembling, scarred hands and said directly, “I’m sorry, but it seems I’m not going to be able to bowl with you.”

“Oh,” Tony said, then, “OH!” louder as the penny dropped. “I’m so sorry, I should have thought…” 

“No, it’s alright. It didn’t occur to me either and it should’ve.”

“You know what, it’s fine. There is a great Mediterranean place just two blocks from here. We can go have a nice meal instead.”

“But then I’ll miss out on seeing you play with your balls!” Stephen objected, trying to lighten the mood again. “No, this’ll be fine. I’ll just watch you bowl.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You’ll show off and I’ll criticize, we’ll both be doing what we are good at.”

Tony shook his head decisively. “Nah, let’s go get some food or something. Well, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“How fast are you with those portals?”

“They aren’t ‘portals’, I am a Master of the Mystic Arts, not a mad scientist.”

“And what’s wrong with being a mad scientist?” Tony asked, his voice full of mock indignation.

“Well, when your third eye has been opened to the infinite possibilities of the multiverse, technology just seems so petty.”

“And that’s why you didn’t have a cell phone?”

“Exactly,” Stephen said haughty. “I am above such small concerns.”

“That so?”

“Well, that and because I already know that the world has the only mad scientist it needs. I could never compare, so why bother?”

“I wouldn’t let Bruce hear you say that, it might make him angry. But I appreciate the shameless flattery; it’ll get you everywhere with me, handsome. But, really, how fast can you cast a gateway?” Tony asked, slightly emphasizing the word.

“Very fast. Why? Are you planning to rob a bank and want a fast getaway? I grant you, that’d be an even more unique first date.”

“That’s a good idea, but I don’t like to commit felonies together until the fifth date. I was just wondering if you could cast one out in front of my ball after I’ve thrown it?”

“And send it where? ‘Cause if you say Fury’s house, the answer is no. I choose life.”

“No! Into the pins of course! I bet working together we can bowl a perfect game.”

“I might be able to do that,” Stephen said, intrigued by the challenge.

It took six games and more than their allotted two hours, but they did bowl a perfect three hundred. In the process they managed to gather quite a crowd, drink several cheap beers, and eat more chili cheese fries then wisdom should allow.

When the last pin fell, it was with the roar of the crowd ringing in his ears and the thrill of victory in his heart that Stephen threw his arms around Tony and kissed him.

He backed off quickly, worried it was too much, too soon, and too public, but Tony just grinned and pulled him close for a second kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where I earn the Mature rating. It is not very detailed, but the sex is there. I have also updated my tags.  
> I am not very good at writing smut, sorry. I tried.

It had been a long time since Stephen had dated anyone, longer since he dated someone he cared about, and now he was a different man. It was painfully like starting again, and Stephen appreciated Tony’s willingness to take things slowly up to a point. As they spent more time together, glazes became heated, touches lingered longer, and Stephen started to wish things would progress faster. When he finally did feel comfortable inviting Tony back to the sanctum it was like a dam breaking, and they arrived there in a whirlwind of mutual passion.

Clothes were shed, Stephen stripping Tony easily out of his shirt while Tony struggled with the many layers of Stephen’s tunic. “Really? Are all these ties necessary? Are zippers somehow against the natural order of the universe and I’ve just never been told?” he demanded, finally managing to strip the garment off Stephen’s shoulders. 

When questing hands started working on his leggings Stephen cast a hasty gateway to his room, circumventing the need to navigate several flights of stairs and furthering the cause of becoming more naked. He pushed Tony through the gate onto his bed, where the startled man bounced, then laughed. “So convenient! Is there one to the bathroom too?”

“I could arrange that” Stephen answered, smiling back at the man who looked so right in his bed that it made a lump form in his throat.

“Great! I plan to be too well fucked later to do much walking.” Tony said with a predatory grin. “That is, if you are coming.”

“Not yet, but I will be.”

“So long as you do it screaming my name.”

Stephen crawled onto the bed, closing the gateway behind him. He moved to kiss Tony’s ear as he muttered, “Mmm, it was Clint right?”

“Oh you asshole. you’ll pay for that.”

“It that a promise?”

“A guarantee,” Tony purred, resuming his work on removing Stephen’s leggings.

A record-breakingly short time they were both completely naked, and Tony was on his knees and elbows, ass in the air, presenting Stephen with an image he hoped to never forget. Eagerly, he popped open the lid on the bottle of lube he'd optimistically bought early in the day and liberally slicked his fingers. However, when he went to slide his finger in his hand shook and his fingers spasmed, refusing to cooperate. 

“No, please not now,” he said softly, trying again. This time the finger curled into his palm, his damaged nerves too weak to hold it straight. Desperately, he switch from his index to his middle finger, with the same result. After a third try failed he growled, frustration and rage welling up in him. Giving into the anger he picked up the bottle of lube he’d dropped and threw it against the wall.

Startled, Tony flinched at the sound of the impact and looked back at him, something like fear flitting across his face before confusion replaced it.

Meeting Tony’s eyes, Stephen felt his anger ebb, leaving him feeling embarrassed and ashamed. “I am sorry,” he said, breaking eye contact to look instead at his shaking hands. “I'm so sorry! I just can’t. My hands are too weak. I'm so useless.”

“Oh, hey, no,” Tony soothed, moving to sit next to Stephen on the edge of the bed and resting a hand on his thigh. “It’s fine, sweet thing. You aren’t useless. After all I’m the one lying here doing nothing while you do all the work. Why don’t you get me the bottle of lube, and let me open myself while you watch.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. We can just stop-”

Tony cut him off, saying, “Who said that I have to? I want to. You can talk me through it with that stupidly sexy voice of yours until I am writhing and pleading for you to fuck me.”

Stephen’s dick, which had gone soft, jumped back to attention at the picture Tony painted. Quickly, he stood to get the lube.

“And while you’re up open a portal to the Arctic or something, it’s fucking hot in here.”

“I can turn on the AC.”

“You have AC? That’s not very mystical.”

“No, but it’s practical.”

“And lame. But go ahead and turn it on, I need you to get back there as fast as possible. I’m not nearly done with you yet, Doc.”

Still standing next to the bed Stephen cast two gateways simultaneously, one he reached through to flick on the air conditioner and the other he used to grab the bottle of lube from across the room before he flopped back onto the bed. “Mystical enough for you?”

“Oh, I think the magic’s just starting’” Tony said, pulling him in for a heated kiss.

Stephen rolled his eyes, but kissed him back.

Afterwards, he and Tony fell asleep in each other’s arms, and when the pain woke Stephen after only a couple of hours, he sat up in bed, resigned. He was accustomed to bad nights and no longer met them with anger or frustration. Rather, they were just another of the little annoyances of living, and tonight the novelty of having to disentangle himself from the man sleeping with him before sitting up did a lot to smooth that away.

Still half-asleep, he blindly fished around on the floor for his spare pillow before realizing that he couldn’t find it because it was currently under Tony’s head. With a grumble he reached back for his own pillow instead, wrapping his arms around it to prop his aching hands above his heart in order to reduce the swelling.

A few minutes later, he was dozing slumped over the pillow when a soft voice from the darkness behind him startled him back into waking, ”Stephen? Something wrong?”

“Tony?” he asked, then immediately felt stupid. “Of course it’s you, I hardly went to sleep with a bunch of men in my bed last night.”

Sitting up next to him, Tony said, “Good to know. I’d hate to hear I wasn’t being invited to your orgies.”

“What kind of guy do you think I am?!” Stephen demanded, voice full of mock indignation. “Of course you’re invited. Orgies are on Tuesdays, bring your own lube.”

”Something to look forward to. But for now, I’ll ask again: What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really. A storm’s coming.”

There was a long pause that felt heavy in the quiet, half light of the city night before Tony asked carefully, “Figuratively or literally?”

“What? Oh, literally. It’s going to rain soon.”

“Good, I was worried for a second there that prophecy was one of your magical abilities, and I’m not ready for another big fight.”

“Oh, no. I can’t see the future like that. I mean, I can chart outcomes of various actions, as you know, but I need a starting point and a finite set of variables.”

“That’s a shame. I was going to ask you for lotto numbers.”

“What for? You already have more money then you could ever spend.”

“Don’t phrase it as a challenge. Besides, they say money won is sweeter than money earned.”

“Well, if I get any visions of lotto numbers, you’ll be the first to know after I’ve won.”

“Great. And when you do, remember you were always my favorite Avenger.”

Stephen hummed skeptically, absainly rubbing one hand with the other.

“So, do storms bother you?”

“Just my hands. Whenever the barometric pressure changes they swell and hurt like this.”

“Just the change in weather?” Tony asked, resting his hand on Stephen’s back. “You don’t think we might have aggravated them earlier?”

“What? With the wild, passionate sex? Maybe, I don’t genuinely know. I, er, really haven’t tried anything like that since the accident. But even if it did, I don’t care. It was worth it,” Stephen said, scooting over to lean against Tony’s side. 

Wrapping an arm around Stephen’s shoulders, Tony said, “Well, of course it was worth it. I’m amazing.”

“So modest. Not that I can complain, I’m pretty sure everyone on this block can tell you just how approving I was.”

“Actually, with your deep, sexy voice, I’m surprised it didn’t measure on the Richter Scale.”

“See, there you go.”

“Yeah, there I go, but none of this is helping your hands.”

Stephen shrugged, “The swelling will go down after a while, and then I can sleep for a couple of hours before the pain wakes me up again.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Get you some Tylenol or anything?”

“No, pills don’t help.”

“Well,” Tony asked, “Do you have any IcyHot or Bengay for them?”

“Why do I feel like you are only trying to set me up for a bad joke about Bengay?”

“Geesh, wait to ruin my punchline. And no, I was gonna offer to massage some into your hands if it would help.”

“Tony Stark, are you offering me a hand job?”

“Oh, so now _you_ can make bad jokes, but _I_ can’t? Do you want the massage or not?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I really don’t.”

“Well, there is a tube of Biofreeze in the medicine cabinet.”

“In the bathroom?” Tony clarified.

“No, in the Dark Dimension,” Stephen said with roll of his eyes. “Yes, the bathroom, behind the mirror.”

“Not very grateful, are you?”

“Don’t know me very well, do you?”

“Oh, I know you plenty well,” Tony said, leaning over to kiss Stephen’s bare shoulder.

Stephen’s hum of approval became a yelp when Tony turned the kiss into a nip.

“I’ll be right back,” Tony said, sliding quickly away across the bed.

“Asshole.” Stephen called after him.

He was still pretending to be angry when Tony returned with the tube, settling back on the bed in front of him. “I’m not sure if I trust you anymore.”

“Oh, yeah. Never trust me; it’s a rookie mistake.” Tony said. “Now, give me your hand.”

Stephen shook his head, but put his hand into Tony’s.

Applying a good sized amount of the gel, Tony rubbed it gently and thoroughly into the offered hand, while Stephen watched, mesmerized. It wasn’t until he’d started the second hand that Tony broke the silence. “You really have beautiful hands.”

“I had beautiful hands,” Stephen said bitterly. “Now I have an ugly, useless mess of scars and malformed bones.”

“You’re wrong; scars can never detract from beauty. And I've seen you do amazing things with these hands.”

“You mean you've seen my magic do amazing things.”

“No, I’ve seen you, and you’re so much more than your magic, just like these hands are so much more than the scars they bear,” Tony said, pressing his lips to Stephen’s swollen knuckles.

”Did you really just do that?”

“Yes, and I already regret it. My lips are going numb.” Tony said, reaching up to wipe at his lips.

“No, don’t—” Stephen exclaimed, but it was too late as Tony succeed in covering his lips with even more Biofreeze.

“Ugrh! Now they’re tingling!”

“You should go rinse them off quickly.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Tony said, already heading back towards the bathroom.

“Make sure you don’t touch your eyes!”

The only reply was muttered cursing from the bathroom.

Later, as Stephen lay on his side with Tony spooned behind him, he looked down at his hands in the pre-dawn light, trying to look beyond the pain and scars and see his hands as Tony did. 

“You think too much. Just go to sleep, beautiful,” Tony whispered into his ear. He tightened the arm around him briefly in a hug and kissed the back of Stephen’s neck.

As Stephen closed his eyes to do just that, he wondered if he was just imagining the tingle Tony’s kiss seemed to leave behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Stephen took a deep breath and focused on the small metal clippers. Carefully, he levitated them towards his smallest toe until they were in position, the too-long nail in between the two cutting surfaces, then slowly, trying to not move his foot or the clippers, he used the force holding them up to press down on the lever.

Almost, almost, he thought as the clippers closed.

“Whatcha doing?” Tony asked from beside their bed.

“Fuck!” Stephen shouted as the spell on the clippers dissolved, sending them shooting off into a nearby wall.

Although the clippers hadn’t come remotely close to him, Tony still jumped back, calling out, “Whoa, there Tex! I’m unarmed.”

“Tony! What are you doing here?”

“I live here, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, but why are you here right now, dangerously breaking my concentration?”

Tony shrugged, “I just wanted to know what you were up to.”

“I was practicing my spellcraft.” 

“How’s that going for you?” Tony asked, looking at the sizable hole in the drywall.

Glaring Stephen answered with a terse, “Shut up.”

Tony just smiled and ignored the command. “So, of all the things you could practice your powers on, you chose clipping your toenails?”

Stephen did his best to look nonchalance as he said, “It’s as good a practice as anything.” He didn’t want to admit the simple truth: the clippers were too small and hard to hold, and trimming his nails was an endless ordeal. Unconsciously, he moved his bent, scarred hands from where they’d been resting on his knees in the lotus position and tucked them under his legs.

With another shrug and a pointed look at the hole in the wall Tony said, “Well, maybe for your next practice you should pick something less sharp. Maybe you could pick up all the dirty socks strewn about the place for example?”

“Those are all yours.” 

“Immaterial.”

“No, gross material. That’s the problem,” Stephen griped back. He was relieved for the return to good-natured bickering and hoped the whole incident would be forgotten.

The next day, Stephen was surprised to come home and find the drywall had been repaired. The wards he had set on Bleecker Street meant that anyone who tried to enter walked through the door only to end up right back out on the street again. Only Tony and Wong could enter without him lowering the spell, which meant Tony must have patched the hole himself. 

Of course, he couldn’t ask about it without bringing up the whole incident again, and he was still pretending nothing had happened. However, that night he brought home dinner from a little sushi restaurant in Nagoya that was a particular favorite of Tony’s, hoping Tony would get the oblique thanks. Judging by his knowing smile as he took the bag of food, he did.

Stephen was less surprised a week later when on their regular date night Tony took him to an manicure salon.

He had assumed they were going to the Starbucks next door, until Tony walked passed it, coming to a stop in front of a narrow storefront squeezed in between it and a cell store. A neon sign above the door read Nailed It and informed Stephen that they provided manicures, pedicures, and waxing. He sighed and asked himself why he even bothered trying to hide his struggles from Tony. Aloud he said, “Really?”

“What?” Tony asked, all unconvincing innocence.

“This is your idea of a good date.”

“It’s better than that movie you chose last month.”

“That was an honest mistake.”

“It was awful, that’s what it was.”

Defensively, Stephen said, “It got a lot of critical praise.”

“And you listened to the critics?!”

“I apologized, didn’t I? And besides, you didn’t even sit through it. You faked an emergency thirty minutes in.”

“It was an emergency.”

“You said the Justice League needed you.”

“And they did, desperately.”

“Whatever,” Stephen said, rolling his eyes. “So, in retribution you've decided to use our date night this week to come here and get waxed?

“No! We’re going to get a Mani Pedi.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be fun.”

Stephen cocked an eyebrow in incredulity.

“Come on,” Tony cajoled. “Don’t even pretend that you’ve never had your nails done.”

“Nope. I never have.”

“What? Not even when you were a flashy, award receiving surgeon, before you upgraded to a flashy, world saving sorcerer?”

“No, it just never really occurred to me.”

“Well, then you’re in for a treat.” Pushing the glass door Tony walked in with apparent familiarity. He called out, “Mary-Ann! How are you today?”

“Tony!” the blonde woman behind the reception counter exclaimed. She stepped out into the little sitting area to pull Tony into a hug. “I’m doing great, now that my favorite customer is here.”

Still facing Tony, Stephen said, “Now I see why you like it here.”

“And you must be Stephen,” Mary-Ann said. She held out a hand to shake Stephen's even as she addressed Tony, “He is every bit as handsome as you said. I was sure you were exaggerating again.”

Stephen couldn’t help but smile at the obvious flattery now that it was directed at him. Of course, Tony noticed and winked at him. “I bet you’ll like it here too.”

Letting go of Stephen’s hand, Mary-Ann starting walking towards the back of the shop, talking as she went. “We are all set up in the back, I’ll be helping you, Tony, and I have Sulyn here to help you out, Stephen,” she said gesturing at a short woman with her hair pulled back in a business-like ponytail.

“So you’re the famous Doctor Strange?” Sulyn asked.

“Well, yes...” Stephen said, dragging the last syllable as he glanced over at Tony, wondering what else the man had told her he was famous for. 

“Did you really diagnose your attending with a heart valve defect while you were in your second year of med school?”

Surprised, but pleased, Stephen answered,“Oh! Yes, I did do that.”

“And saved her life when she had an episode that presented like a seizure.”

“To be fair, any of the doctors there might have figured it out eventually.”

“Don’t be so modest, Doc,” Tony said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“It certainly made you a legend at Johns Hopkins,” Sulyn said. “My daughter is there right now, and she tells me there’s a shrine to you in the hallway where it happened.”

“A shrine?”

“Yeah, she says they don’t let them burn candles there anymore, but students still leave you offerings of coffee and pictures of yourself when they have a big test or need help with a diagnosis.”

“Amazing that they’ve never put that in any of the alumni newsletter. I might have been more tempted to donate,” Stephen mused. “What branch of medicine is your daughter hoping to go into?”

From there the conversation flowed naturally, and Stephen soon forgot to be embarrassed and ashamed about struggling to do his own nails. It helped that they were the only customers in the shop and that Tony and Mary-Ann were clearly old friends. Whenever the talk lagged Tony would ask Stephen to identify the song playing on the radio and Mary-Ann and Sulyn would act duly impressed.

Both Tony and Stephen chose to get a clear coat on their fingernails, so when it came time to apply toenail polish Sulyn asked him, “Clear as well?”

“No,” Tony objected. “Where’s the fun in that!”

Warningly, Stephen started, “Tony...”

“Oh, come on. Who ever sees your toes anyway?”

Stephen visibly wavered.

“Besides, I bought a special shade just for you,” Tony added, making puppy-dog eyes at him.

“What? I don’t even get to pick my own color!?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Fine,” Stephen said grudgingly. “But only if I can pick out a color for you.”

“Okay, we have a deal,” Tony said, smiling and offering a handshake to seal the deal.

Mary-Ann shook her head. “You guys are fucking adorable together. You know that, right? It’s almost sickening.”

Tony tried and failed to look outraged, ending up laughing instead.

Stephen shrugged and admitted, “That’s fair.”

He also had to admit the color Tony chose was lovely. The bottle was labeled ‘Celestial Blue’ and was a blueish color with an iridescent green sheen to it. When asked, Tony shrugged and said, “It reminded me of your eyes.”

“Big softy,” Stephen accused.

You expect me to deny it?” Tony asked with a grin.”Besides, you have to admit it is a pretty color. Unlike others I could have picked,” he said, gesturing down at his own now orangish-red toes.

“Well, I was going to pick red to match your suit, but I couldn’t help myself when I saw this one.”

Tony made an impatience ‘go on’ motion.

Stephen grinned at him. “Well, this shade is called ‘Rust.’”

Tony’s squawk of protest was nearly drowned out by the combined laughter of Mary-Ann and Sulyn.

When they finally left, walking gingerly on bare feet to avoid smearing their drying toenails, Mary-Ann came to the door to see them out. Waving, she called after them, “Always good to see you Tony, and Stephen, come back and see us again soon!”

“I will,” Stephen said, surprised to find he meant it.


	5. Chapter 5

“Oh, for the love of the Seven Tomes of Nosilla, just come over here! It needs to be done.”

The only response was a flash of red that streaked by him and down the staircase. Stephen grabbed for it as it went by without success.

There was a bang and the sound of breaking glass from downstairs, and he sighed. Ruefully, he looked down at the tools he’d gathered earlier, now scattered across the dark wood floor, and got to his knees to retrieve them.

He was fishing underneath a glass display case for a spool of red silk thread when Tony yelled up to him from the parlor they had turned into a workshop for him, “Hon, why is Tate cowering behind me, shaking like a leaf?”

Startled by the voice, Stephen jerked up, cracking his head on the case above him. Cursing under his breath, he stood, rubbing at the back of his head, and shouted back, “I didn’t know you were home!”

“I got back from Moscow a few hours ago, but you weren’t here.”

“Yeah, I just got back too. Still, you could have had Friday message me, I’d have gated you back home.”

“You were busy, and I wanted to test the new suit’s endurance and internal navigation anyway,” Tony said, voice moving closer.

“You put it on autopilot and slept the whole way, didn’t you?”

Tony topped the stairs, revealing his grin. “Maybe. The sound of wind rushing by is quite soothing.”

He started walking toward Stephen, arms outstretched for an embrace, only to be stopped by the Cloak of Levitation wrapping around him and pulling him back.

“Oh, right,” Tony said. “What’s up with Tate?”

“It’s called the Cloak of Levitation.”

“That’s what I said: Tate.”

Stephen sighed, knowing he’d lost the battle over the nickname long ago, and answered, “Well, while you were off in Russia we got called to fend off an interdimensional attack.”

“Wow, another one?”

“Yeah, everyone and their mother wants to throw down with us since we defeated Thanos. It’s getting tiresome.”

“How’d this time go?”

“Oh, it was too easy. Some two bit act from the outer rim looking for a quick conquest. I probably could’ve just yelled ‘Boo!’ loudly and chased him off.”

“But you didn’t?”

Stephen bit his lower lip, embarrassed and chagrined. “No, I didn’t. When he attacked I rushed right in and in the scuffle he and his dagger of doom or some such nonsense managed to cut a fairly big hole in Tate.”

“Ha! Tate!”

“I meant, the great and mystical and awesome Cloak!”

“Sure you did.”

“Whatever. The point is, it’s ripped. I’ve got all the stuff to fix it,” he said, waving with the hand still holding the spool of thread towards the needles, scissors and scraps of fabric laid out on top of a nearby table, “but it’s being a big baby about the procedure.”

“Well, can you blame it when you’re throwing around words like procedure and brandishing scissors at it? I’d be scared too.” Slowly, Tony closed his arms around the cloak still wrapped around him, holding it in a gentle hug and stroking it like a frightened rabbit.

“It’s just a few stitches and minor incantations. It’s not like it’s going to hurt it!”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

Opening his mouth to object, Stephen paused. He’d genuinely never considered that. After teaming up with the Cloak he had read everything he could find about it, but it wasn’t very much. All he knew for sure was that it was centuries old, powerful, and sentient. He didn’t know how it was made or if it could feel. 

The breath he’d taken to argue whooshed out of him, and it was in a much quieter voice he said, “You’re right, both of you. I was being an ass, and I’m sorry. Bedside manner was never my strong suit. Tate, can you forgive me?”

The Cloak was visibly shaking less as he finished his apology, and Stephen let the question hang in the air, giving the cloak time to decide. Eventually, it peeled away from Tony, floating hesitantly toward him. He held out a hand, palm up, but didn’t move otherwise. After a minute of halting progress, the cloak bumped into his hand. Keeping his fingers open, he stroked it like Tony had, and said softly, “I’m so sorry. Sorry I let you get hurt, and sorry I was mean about trying to fix it. I won’t do it again, all right?”

In answer, the cloak flipped upwards, flaring out dramatically before setting across his back in what felt like a hug. When the collar moved to rub his cheek, he leaned into the caress, whispering “Thank you” into the soft fabric.

“There,” Tony said, crossing the room himself to embrace Stephen. “Isn’t that better?”

“Yeah, but it still leaves the matter of the cut to deal with.” Feeling the cloak stiffen on his back he added hastily, “No, no, no. I’m not going to force you into anything. It’s your choice, but when and if you are ready, I’d like to take a look and maybe see about fixing that slash.”

“You know, he has a point, Taters, even magical cloth ravels. The sooner we take care of you the better.”

“Yeah, and I bet all the coats dig a cloak with a cool scar,” Stephen said with a lopsided grin. He wasn’t prepared for the cloak to take offence, knocking into the back of one of his knees hard enough to make it fold. If Tony hadn’t still been holding him, he would have gone down. Instead, he clung tightly to Tony, trying to regain his balance. They almost went down anyway because Tony was laughing so hard.

When he was solidly standing again Stephen took a step back from the half-hysterical man, glaring at him. Tony ignored the look, wiping away tears as he declared, “Oh, come on. You can’t say you didn’t deserve that.” On his back, the cloak raised one shoulder as if shrugging in agreement, and then it peeled away to fly over to the table Stephen had dragged into the pool of sunlight cast by the large circular window at the top of the stairs. It neatly stretched over the surface, the gash centered.

“See, amazing what a little politeness and understanding will get you,” Tony said, smugly.

“No, what’s amazing is that you, Tony Stark, even know the word ‘polite.’”

“I am just full of surprises, aren’t I?”

“You are full of something, that’s for sure. Now shut up and help me with these,” Stephen said, motioning at the scattered sewing supplies, “so we can get the Cloak fixed up.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“’Doctor’ is it? Does that make you my nurse?”

“No, but we can play that game later if you’d like.”

Stephen just glared before stalking towards the table, spool of thread still in hand.

Tony called after him, “I’ll take that as a yes. I can even get an outfit for it.” Dropping his voice to a deep purr, he continued, “Oh, Doctor! I’ve been so naughty…”

Rolling his eyes, Stephen rested the fingertips of his empty hand on the cloak and asked it, “Why do we put up with him again?”

The cloak had no answer.

Stephen neatly laid out all his supplies and suffered several more doctor jokes before he was ready to start. It was with trepidation that he went to pick up the needle, and he wasn’t terribly surprised when his fingers refused to close around the thin metal shaft. 

Heart sinking, he still tried again, only to fail again, as nervousness made his hand tremors worse. On the next try he managed to knock the needle off onto the floor. Sighing with frustration, he started to bend to pick up the needle, only to be stopped mid-movement by Tony’s hand on a shoulder and his voice in low, soothing tones.

“Hey, hey now,” he said, reaching down to still Stephen’s shaking hand by taking them in his. “What’s the trouble?”

“You know very well what the trouble is,” Stephen snapped. “It’s my damn hands. Years of medical training and practice and I can’t even fix a torn cloak.”

Calmly, Tony said,“I don’t really think it takes a medical degree to fix a cloak.”

“No, it takes functional hands.”

“I was going to say it takes common sense, which is something they clearly don’t teach in medical school. You need to learn to use the tools you have been given.”

Caustically, Stephen asked, “What tools? ‘Cause I doubt my good looks and rapier wit are gonna help me hold a needle again.”

“In a way, they will. After all, they keep me hanging around. Let me be your hands, and you can talk me through anything I need to know.”

“But-” Stephen started, then couldn’t think of anything to follow it.

“Come on, you know great surgeons never close up after themselves anyway. And you can personally attest to how good I am with my hands.”

“Fine. But you’d better follow my instructions to the letter, Nurse.”

“Ooo, it gives me goosebumps when you can me that, Doc. I promise I’ll behave.”

He was as good as his word, doing exactly what Stephen directed and never complaining when he had to redo a stitch or stop for long minutes while Stephen cast spells to reweave the existing enchantments on the cloth.

When they were done, all three seemed to heave a sigh of relief, and it was by unspoken consensus that they decided on a quiet evening at home.

Stephen popped out for pizza and, on a whim, he got a pint of ice cream too. Tony glanced at it and raised an eyebrow at him. “Stark Raving Hazelnut?”

Stephen shrugged, “It grew on me.”

Later, as he cuddled on the couch with Tony, the cloak draped over their laps, watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang because it was Tate’s favorite, Stephen drifted in and out of a doze, warm, safe, and utterly content.


	6. Chapter 6

“If there is anyone who knows a reason these two shouldn’t be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace,” Wong said.

Stephen had tried to talk Tony out of including the question in the ceremony at all, but Tony had insisted it wouldn’t sound right without it. Now he held his breath, not at all sure that someone in the crowd wouldn’t object, whether seriously or as a joke. 

The large crowd remained silent, and Stephen fought not to sigh in relief. After a moment Wong continued, “The couple will now exchange rings and vows.”

They had argued about which of them would get to say their vows first, finally flipping a coin to decide. Stephen had won. Now he stepped forward looking into the beautiful brown eyes he loved so much.

“Anthony, a wise person once told me the only true wisdom was learning how to surrender control and look beyond myself. It was a lesson I struggled to grasp until you came into my life. From the moment I met you, I had no choice but to surrender to my feeling for you. Now when I look to the future I no longer see just myself; I can only see the two of us together. Tony, I know our time here is limited, and I don’t want to spend another second of it without you.”

Stephen waved his hand in the air between them and in a blinding flash of golden light a ring appeared floating in the air above his hand. It was crafted of translucent stone, glowing with a multitude of runes and charms designed to keep Tony safe and allow Stephen to feel his heartbeat even when they were universes apart.

He picked the ring out of the air, his fingers steady for once, and slid the band onto Tony’s waiting finger.

Tony kept a hold of Stephen’s hand as he cleared his throat and took a breath before beginning his vows.

“Stephen, for as long as I can remember, I have felt hollow, like an empty shell of a person, but with you in my life I feel so full of joy and happiness that I could explode from it. I know I come to you a broken man. My heart and mind are twisted and scarred, but both are yours for as long as I live.”

Tony let go of Stephen to bring a hand to his chest, resting the tip of one finger on the glowing triangle of the arc reactor embedded there. When he pulled his finger away a shining blue sphere of nanites came away with it. Tony reached out to press the sphere to Stephen’s ring finger, where it stretched and flowed around the digit to form a ring.

Looking down, Stephen was mesmerized by the sight of at the gently glowing band now around his finger. He could still see the intricate network of scars that covered his hands, could still feel the slight tremor that ended one chapter of his life and set him on the path to this moment, but, for the first time since the accident, his hands looked perfect to him.

Wong had to nudge him to break him from his thoughts. With his customary gravitas he stage whispered, “You may now kiss your husband.”

Stephen wiped away the tears in his eyes before throwing his newly perfect hands around Tony and kissing the man who had made him feel whole again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this story has been so wonderful! Thank you all so much for reading my little story. :)


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